


There Goes Your Heart

by you_idjits



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Dean is a bad boy... except a girl..., F/F, First Kiss, also i've never used the f/f category before this is fun, cisswap!Castiel, cisswap!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-10
Updated: 2015-05-10
Packaged: 2018-03-29 23:50:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3915310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/you_idjits/pseuds/you_idjits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deanna is having the worst day.<br/>It probably has to do with the whole getting-punched-in-the-face thing.<br/>It gets a lot better when Cas, the cute new girl from her English class, shows up and breaks Alastair's nose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There Goes Your Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wincechesters](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wincechesters/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY LOVE!!!!1!1!!!
> 
> This is a gift for [Jess](http://wincechesters.tumblr.com/), also known as The Literal Best. You're the reason I'm doing the spnfemslash minibang so it makes sense that I post my first femslash piece for your birthday. Also, just, I have a thing for punk!Deanna, like, give me all the leather jackets and undercuts and ugHHUHHGUHh Amber Heard is so hot oh my God why didn't I write femslash sooner??  
> Anyway. I hope you like it, and I hope you have a really, really wonderful day. You deserve it.
> 
> Title from the song Bang Bang, because female empowerment is cool, and also it talks about making out in the backseat of a car, and, well, I felt it was appropriate. Thank you x1000 to Tasha and Onja who edited this on such short notice. Crossposted on [tumblr](http://shootingstarcas.tumblr.com/post/118647676416/happy-birthday-to-wincechesters-i-love-you-a).

Deanna is having the worst day.

It probably has to do with the whole getting-punched-in-the-face thing. She puts up a good fight for the first few minutes, but there are five of them and one of her, and man, she could have planned this better.

Planning didn’t really factor into it at all. She came home from school yesterday to find Sam with a black eye, and, well, that was that. She couldn’t let those assholes get away with beating up her kid brother. So here she is, picking a fight with Lebanon High’s most recent recipient of the Asshole-of-the-Year Award, Alastair.

“You know, normally, I don’t hit girls,” Alastair says, kicking her in the stomach, “but I’ll make an exception for you. You asked for it.”

She kicks him in the shins. She may be down, but she’s not out. Alastair’s goons surround her, Gordon sinking to his knees so he can use his fists. Fuck. _Fuck._ She’s going to get blood on her dad’s leather jacket. She gives up on fighting back and covers her head with her hands. Maybe if she holds out, they’ll leave her alone.

But they won’t leave Sam alone. They’ll never let him hear the end of this. And Deanna can’t have that. She has to fight back. She has to. She opens her eyes, just in time to see a new pair of shoes on the scene. Nice shoes, wingtip shoes.

The newcomer taps Alastair on the shoulder, says, “Hey, assbutt,” and then breaks his nose.

Whatever happens after that is a blur for Deanna. She watches from ankle-level as Wingtips spins, kicking and shoving at Alastair’s buddies. Alastair stumbles. Gordon falls. Then they’re scrambling away, all five of them, leaving Deanna alone with the newcomer.

“Hey,” Wingtips says, nudging Deanna’s knee. “You okay?”

“Fine.” Deanna props herself up on one arm, using the other to wipe some of the blood from her face.

“That looks bad.” Wingtips crouches down into Deanna’s line of sight. Oh. _Oh_.

Fuck. It’s that new girl, the one in Deanna’s English class, with the blue eyes and the messy bun and the– _fuck._

Deanna’s heart starts hammering again, and this time it’s not because she’s getting punched in the face. She stares at the girl for three seconds too long, and then her nose starts bleeding again.

“You’re…” Wingtips reaches out a hand, then stops. “Bleeding. Everywhere. Come on, I’ve got a first aid kit in my car, let me help you.”

Deanna bats her hand away. “I can take care of myself, thanks.” She doesn’t need the cute girl from her English class to see her like this.

“Let me.” She offers a hand again, this time to help Deanna to her feet. “I’m Cas.”

“Cas. Right. Uh, Deanna.”

“I know,” Cas says. She drops Deanna’s hand, a moment too late. “Come on, I’m parked behind the school.”

Deanna follows, because Cas doesn’t seem like the kind of girl you want to mess with. She walks with shoulders straight, head held high. Not a speck of blood on her pale blue sundress. Nobody would know she’d just been in a fight, save for the bruised and battered girl stumbling a few steps behind.

“Thanks,” Deanna says. “I– uh. Shit. I’m not good at this. But if you hadn’t saved me there–”

“You’re welcome.” Cas glances over her shoulder, smiling just a little. She’s got really nice blue eyes, long, dark lashes, and Deanna really, really wishes their first conversation could have been in different circumstances.

They come to a stop in front of what may be the most hideous car Deanna has ever seen.

“Beige, really? And a _Continental_ too?”

Cas looks at her. “You look upset.”

“Of course I am! Are you kidding me? You drive _this_?” She puts a hand to her chest. “I am personally offended on your behalf.”

Cas cocks her head to the side. And it’s. Um. It’s really cute. “You’re not upset by the fight,” she says, “but about my car?”

“Un-fucking-believable. I don’t know why I ever thought you were cool.”

Cas says nothing, but opens the trunk of her car to rummage around for the first aid kit. Deanna leans against the side, shoves her hands deep in her pockets. Her ribs ache where they press against the car. Bruised, maybe cracked. She’ll be fine.

“Do you get into fights like this often?” Cas asks. She glances up, strands of dark hair falling in her eyes.

Deanna shrugs. “No. Maybe sometimes.”

Cas tugs Deanna over by the collar of her leather jacket, manhandling her onto the hood of the car. She takes out a cotton wipe damp with alcohol and begins dabbing at the cuts on Deanna’s cheek. Deanna winces, but lets her.

“I have to ask, though,” Deanna says. “It’s not a big deal, but… Assbutt, really? That’s all you could come up with?”

“I was a little distracted with saving your life. Didn’t have time to come up with a better quip.”

“Yeah, but quips are the most important part. They’re your legacy. I mean, now you’re gonna be known as that weirdo new kid who called Alastair ‘assbutt’ and then broke his nose.”

“Good,” Cas says.

Oh, God, Deanna’s in love.

Cas puts bandages over the worst of the damage. “I only have Spider-Man band-aids; I hope that’s okay. Now let me see your knuckles.”

Deanna holds up her hand. Cas runs her fingers over the split knuckles, and it stings, but there’s something really soft about it. She bandages Deanna’s hands carefully, tenderly.

“When you said you thought I was cool, did you mean it?” she asks, without looking up. Their faces are close now, and Deanna can see the faint pink tinge to her cheeks.

“You kidding me?” Deanna laughs, though it hurts her ribs. “New girl marches into English class with a glare that could level cities? Of course I meant it.”

“You’re, ah, you’re pretty cool too,” Cas says. She’s still holding Deanna’s hand in both of hers. “You sit there in the back with your leather jacket and– and– you know all the answers but you never raise your hand.”

“I don’t know _all_ the answers,” Deanna says. But Cas is looking at her now, and not looking away. Their faces are so close.

Then Cas is kissing her, and intertwining their fingers, and Deanna’s confused and then surprised and then really, really into it.

And then she’s pulling away, saying, “Ow, shit, fuck, ow, busted lip, ow.”

Cas blinks. Her cheeks are pink and her lips are pink and she looks so gorgeous like this, so embarrassed. “Not a good idea?”

“No, no,” Deanna says, “definitely a good idea. Just– uh–”

“I’ll be careful,” Cas says, and Deanna trusts her.

They make out against the side of the car for a while, and then Cas remembers her keys, and then they make out in the backseat for a while. Cas sits on Deanna’s lap, knees bumping into her hipbones. Deanna shoves her hands up under Cas’s dress. Okay, maybe this car has more backseat space than the Impala, but that’s its only advantage. Cas presses her hands against the roof and uses the leverage to grind down on Deanna’s lap, and ah, shit, this is awesome.

Until Cas tugs at Deanna’s lower lip with her teeth, and it should be really sexy, but it mostly just hurts. Deanna’s senses are a little overloaded right now and the pain takes her by surprise. “Okay, okay, wait,” she says, “we have to stop. I mean– I mean– not permanently, but like, for now.”

Cas looks down at Deanna, hair falling in her eyes. “You need to put some ice on that.”

“Ice. Right, yeah.” Deanna runs her hands over Cas’s thighs. She catches her breath. “Okay. New plan. We go back to my house, and I ice my lip, and we very carefully avoid my parents, and then we lock my bedroom door.”

“Okay,” Cas says. She slides off Deanna’s lap and climbs into the driver’s seat. Deanna lies in the backseat for a little longer, staring at the roof, feeling the ache underneath her ribs. This is a good ache, though, a kind of slow burn, like something new and dangerous is starting.

Cas looks over her shoulder. “Deanna? Are you all right?”

“Yeah,” Deanna says. She runs her tongue over her busted lip and tastes Cas’s lip gloss. “I’m good.”


End file.
